


anything for you, darling

by Areiton



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: And Mama Rhodes is a saint for putting up with these idiots, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, Jarvis knows what's up, Kid Fic, M/M, MIT Era, Mutual Pining, Parent Tony Stark, Pining, Protective James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Protective Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:40:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21528484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areiton/pseuds/Areiton
Summary: Tony is sitting on the balcony of his palace in Malibu, and Rhodey hates it, more than he's ever hated anything, watching his best friend stare at the water, limmed by the sun and utterly alone."She's dead," Tony says, before Rhodey can ask and he feels his breath catch, his heart stumble.There's--Grief. For pretty, troubled Maya with her big eyes.Heartbreak. For a sweet infant who will never know the mother who gave him up, whose life will never be exposed, now.Relief. Because Harley is safe. Safe. Gods, he'ssafe.orRhodey helps Tony raise his son.
Relationships: James "Rhodey" Rhodes/Tony Stark
Comments: 28
Kudos: 466





	anything for you, darling

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [RhFe Mini Bang](https://rhfenovemberbash.tumblr.com/) and [the-faultofdaedalus](https://the-faultofdaedalus.tumblr.com/) did the absolutely gorgeous art for it! Go tell her how lovely it is!!

  
  


When Tony is twenty-one, he goes to rehab for six months. He doesn’t talk about it before or after, just vanishes into a rehab for the obscenely wealthy just after finishing his first PhD. He emerges six months later with a goatee and a sharks’ smile and proceeds to throw SI into a tizzy when he announces the move of R&D and headquarters to California. 

~*~ 

“Can you keep a secret? 

Rhodey rolls his head and looks at Tony. He’s heard a lot of weird questions from his best friend in the past three years, and this one--it’s  _ not  _ weird, is the thing. Tony asks this on a semi-regular basis, usually when he’s drunk off his ass or manic from an engineering binge and almost always, it’s followed by some confession about Howard that makes Rhodey want to break the man’s face, and cuddle Tony in a nest of blankets and his mama’s cookies. 

Not that he’d  _ ever  _ told Tony that. 

“Yeah, genius,” Rhodey says, call and refrain, “I’ll keep any secret you tell me.” 

Tony rolls to his knees, and it occurs to Rhodey--he isn’t drunk. 

He isn’t manic. 

This is Tony as he rarely sees him--quiet and contemplative. The son of Maria, not Howard--in moments like this, that’s all Rhodey sees. 

“I’m serious, platypus,” Tony says. “This--this is the biggest secret I’m ever gonna ask you to keep.” 

Rhodey sits up, and stares at him, intent and earnest and Tony lets out a shuddering sigh, and tells him.

~*~ 

Rhodey moves with him. They've been inseparable since his first semester at MIT, and even six months of rehab and seclusion didn't break that. He moves to California, and Tony pulls every string he has and a few he doesn't to get him a semi-permanent posting at Edwards. It's not perfect--perfect, Tony thinks, would be Rhodey sitting on the Board with him, and in his workshop and in his bed--but it's as close to perfect as he's going to get, with things being what they are, so he takes it. 

~*~ 

The girl, Rhodey meets once. 

She’s pretty, young, and there’s a sickly kind of pallor to her that fresh cleaned addicts give off. 

“Will she stay clean?” Rhodey asks. Tony looks at her and Maya smiles, her eyes bright the way girls eyes always are when they look at him. 

“She will if she wants her paycheck,” he says, simply. 

He meets her once, and he doesn’t like her, doesn’t  _ trust _ her, but Tony says--well, it doesn’t matter. He trusts  _ Tony.  _

“Five million up front. One million a year, for the next twenty one. Four million dollar bonus if she gets there for a grand total of thirty mil, taxes paid by yours truly,” Tony says, his fingers beating a rapid staccato on the table as he lays it out. “She gets a house anywhere she wants, a job at SI if she wants it, but the money and benefits stop if this leaks before those twenty one years are up.” 

Rhodey stares at him, “Do you think you can keep this a secret for twenty one  _ years? _ ” 

Tony scoffs, “I’m a genius, Rhodey. I can do anything.” 

His gaze flicks down to the ultrasound and says, “I’d do  _ anything.”  _

The thing is--Rhodey believes him. 

~*~ 

Tony is a genius, but Rhodey is practical, and it’s why their friendship works. 

It’s why Tony trusts him, why he tells him his secrets, why he shares this one. 

Rhodey is the one who says, “We need to call my mom.” 

“We can’t--” 

“You can’t do this alone, Tones. Neither can I. We need her help.” Rhodey says, gently. “And if you don’t tell her--if you keep this secret from her for two decades, she’ll kill you.  _ And _ never make you oatmeal chocolate chip cookies again.” 

Tony thinks about his, his face crunched in worry. Then he nods. “Call her.”

~*~ 

The first year in California, Tony builds a mansion on the edge of a cliff in Malibu. No one believes it can be done, and Tony laughs, and creates a new way of building and stabilizing the very foundation of a cliff to make the impossible possible. 

Rhodey buys a little house in Palmdale that backs up to Angeles National Forest, and moves his mother in. It’s beautiful and secluded, as isolated and quiet as Tony’s mansion is flamboyant and loud. 

“It’s far from base,” his CO says. 

Rhodey smiles, shrugs, says, “Mama doesn’t like hearing the fighter jets in the mornin’.” 

~*~ 

Tony calls in April, a panicked voice on the other end of the line, and Rhodey hits the ground running, doesn’t really think about what he’s doing or why until he’s stumbling into a house in northern Pasadena that looks completely unremarkable. 

Maya is sleeping and the midwife is cleaning up and Tony--

“Rhodey,” Tony breathes, and right then, that moment, listening to the breathless adoration in Tony’s voice--that’s the moment. 

“Rhodey,  _ look,”  _ Tony almost begs, and Rhodey walks forward. 

Without hesitation, without thinking, he walks across the room, slips his arms around Tony’s waist and hooks his chin over Tony’s shoulder. 

“Hello, Harley,” Rhodey whispers, and the baby blinks up at him, eyes big and bright and beautiful. 

~*~ 

Tony doesn’t stop drinking, exactly. 

He doesn’t stop going out, doesn’t stop bringing home a string of pretty young things. 

He can’t. This--all of this--it rest on the ability to never arouse suspicions. Protecting Harley relies on maintaining the status quo.

So he drinks. 

He fucks. 

He invents. 

And when the cameras go away and the girls are packed into cars and sent home and the inventions are lauded and sent to foreign countries to blow things up--he goes to a small house in the middle of nowhere, to Rhodey with his sad eyes and comfortable guest room, to a small boy with a bright smile and a new milestone every day, to Mama Rhodes with her plates of chocolate chip oatmeal cookies and tired smiles and brusque concern. 

He goes home. 

~*~ 

“How long do you think we can do this?” he whispers, and Rhodey shifts, looks at him. 

They’re curled up on the porch swing, a bottle of wine pillowed on Tony’s arm that neither bothered to get glasses for. 

Through the baby monitor, he can hear Harley, snoring softly. 

He wants to say, forever. 

He wants it to last forever. 

“As long as we need, Tones,” he says. 

It’s not enough of a promise, but it’s all he has to give. 

[ ](https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5cqqpulh8Mk/XdifzWUdrvI/AAAAAAAADyI/q1XWrlMIsfokZ4swsRoX-Tg-EE10mwPGgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IRONHUSBANDS.png)

~*~

Tony calls him in the middle of the night and Rhodey goes. 

He knows his mama is watching him, knows she worries, but he doesn't hesitate. Kisses Harley's head and her cheek and he goes. 

Tony is sitting on the balcony of his palace in Malibu, and Rhodey hates it, more than he's ever hated anything, watching his best friend stare at the water, limmed by the sun and utterly alone. 

"She's dead," Tony says, before Rhodey can ask and he feels his breath catch, his heart stumble. 

There's--

Grief. For pretty, troubled Maya with her big eyes. 

Heartbreak. For a sweet infant who will never know the mother who gave him up, whose life will never be exposed, now. 

Relief. Because Harley is safe. Safe. Gods, he's  _ safe _ . 

Worry. 

"Tony," Rhodey says, gently, and Tony makes a noise, a noise so small and hurt it breaks Rhodey from his temporary paralysis, pulls him in a rush across the balcony, to scoop the younger man into his arms, hold him as Tony shivers and shakes. 

"It's ok, genius," he soothes. He promises. "You're ok."

Later, when Tony is quiet and still and Rhodey's eyes are gritty and the sun has long since set and the stars gleam overhead--later, Tony says, "I want to bury her." 

"Of course." 

Silence, and then, "Did I do this? By giving her that money?" 

Rhodey is quiet for a long time and then, "Maya was sick, Tones. You can't fix people who don't want to be fixed." 

He makes that noise again, wounded and small and Rhodey closes his eyes, and holds him close. 

~*~ 

Harley turns one.

It's a quiet affair--just the four of them, a picnic in the backyard. Tony brings piles of shiny wrapped books and diapers and Rhodey likes seeing him like this, all bright and happy, the demons from Maya's death chased away for the moment. Harley giggles and toddles between Rhodey and Tony and smears a little chocolate cake all over himself and the highchair and Tony cradles him close when he crashes, sticky hand wrapped in his father's t shirt. 

"Is it worth it?" Mama asks, him, watching as the Starks doze on a blanket in the sun and Rhodey smiles, a soft thing.

The year has been  _ hard _ , with midnight feedings and Maya's death and the one week Harley was so sick no one slept, and Tony's presence that is always there, but so often  _ distant _ . 

She looks at him, and Rhodey watches his best friend and the baby he's fallen in love with and he thinks--this is who Tony is. 

This is who he will never let anyone see. 

But he lets me. 

He wants me to see. 

"It's worth it," he says, his voice hoarse and his Mama sighs, a small tired thing, and pats him on the shoulder. He glances at her. "You--Mama, you don't have to--" 

"James, don't you finish that sentence," she says, calmly. "You aren't the only one who loves them. And Harley is my grandbaby."

He almost argues. 

Almost. 

But it's true. In every way that counts, he thinks, it's true. 

He dips his head and says, "Yes, ma'am." 

"But you're cleanin' up this mess," she adds, and turns to go inside. 

~*~ 

The call comes and it's not unexpected is the thing. He knows it's coming--comments from his CO, the change of the tide in the war, the simple fact that the military machine means he's never going to avoid it for long. 

Still. 

It shocks him, when he gets the call. 

Two weeks. 

He gets two weeks before he deploys, a base in Egypt, a nine month stint. 

It could be worse. He knows it could be worse. 

Oh, but it could be so much better. For the first time in his life, he thinks about getting out. 

He goes home, sends Mama to town to see a movie and curls around Harley. This beautiful boy who isn't his, not by blood or name or law--but who *is, who will *always be his. Harley smiles at him, babbling that toddler nonsense that will end too soon, his voice high and sweet, his fingers gripping Rhodey's uniform tight and Rhodey blinks away his tears. 

He'll leave--and his boy will change. There's no way to stop time, to freeze him in this moment, when he's young and sweet and content to curl next to him on the plush carpet. 

He'll come back to a toddler and crayons on the walls and--he blinks back tears as Harley pitches forward and plants a wet kiss on his cheek. He holds him close and reaches for his phone. 

He hasn't told Tony yet. 

They have two weeks, and there's too much to do, but for this one single night--he hides with a child he wants to call his own, and cries. 

~*~ 

Tony is silent when he drives Rhodey to Edwards. 

Harley had cried, a little, that fantastic Stark temper flaring, when both of them made their leave, and he feels a little guilty that he's the one seeing Rhodey off, instead of his mother. 

She'd dismissed his concerns, kissed Rhodey and Tony both, and shoved them out into the night. "Call when you can, and be safe," she ordered, firm, brooking no room for him to do anything. 

Tony doesn't know how to let him go with that kind of ease. 

He wants to hug Rhodey close and never let go, wants to beg him to stay. But there's something bright, almost electric in his best friend's eyes and he doesn't--he doesn't get to ask that. 

Ask him to stay. 

He doesn't. 

So he doesn't. 

"Take care of him," Rhodey says, almost begs, and Tony smiles. 

"Take care of yourself. I'll mind the homefront." 

Rhodey stares at him for a long time. Then nods, and sighs, and pushes out of the car. "I'll see you soon, Tones," he promises. 

~*~ 

He sees Harley less, with Rhodey gone. He makes the drive to the little house once a month, when he can manage it, spends hours with Harley and listening to Mama Rhodes fill him in and he tinkers on a new project in the long weeks between, when he waits for phone calls from Rhodey and placates Obadiah and the Board with new inventions, new bombs that are bigger and better and smarter--but it feels like he's frozen, stuck in place, not quite living, a breath caught in his lungs. 

And then Rhodey comes home, and Tony can breath again. 

~*~ 

It’s difficult. 

Raising Harley wrapped in anonymity and secrets. Lying to Obie and the Board and even Pepper, when she blows into his life, a hurricane on sharp heels--that’s easy. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do to protect Harley. 

What’s difficult is that--Harley is alone. 

He has Mama Rhodes, bright and warm and perfect. 

He has Rhodey, with his steady brilliance and unfailing love. 

And he has Tony. 

“Do you think I’m fucking him up, by keeping him a secret?” Tony asks. They’ve been drinking, Mama Rhodes a little sloshed on wine and Rhodey is on his fourth beer, and Tony is cradling the sleeping two year old in his arms. He looks at Rhodey, and his heart tumbles at the expression--tender and beautiful--as he stares at them. “I--I’m warping him, aren’t I?” 

“Honey,” Mama says, sitting up and swaying. “We’re all of us a collection of the mistakes our parents made. You ain’t special there, just because you’re a Stark. Harley will be the same. But we protect them, from what hurt us, and we hope mistakes we make don’t leave scars. That’s all you can ask for.” 

Tony stares at her, and her expression goes gentle. “You aren’t hurtin’ that baby, Tony Stark. You’re doing your best and he’s doin’ just fine.” 

~*~ 

Jarvis is old. Tony sits across from him and it's the thought that resonates most--that his old friend is  _ old.  _

When did that happen? When did this man who shaped him, who loved him first and fierce--when did he grow old and learn to carry his years? 

When did Tony stop seeing him as eternal and indestructible and saw instead that one day--one day  _ soon _ \--he would lose Jarvis. 

"I should have come to see you sooner," Tony says, softly. 

Jarvis tips his head to study Tony, gaze sharp and shrewd and kind. "You are here now." 

He was always willing to forgive Tony, so much more than Tony was willing to forgive himself. 

"How is Master James?" Jarvis asks, deftly turning Tony away from his morose thoughts. He won't ask about SI, not unless Tony brings it up. 

Tony smiles. It's soft, unguarded--he'd never learned to be guarded with Jarvis, never needed to learn to be guarded. "Good. They want to promote him again." 

"So soon?" Jarvis says. Rhodey's last promotion was only a year ago. 

"He's angling to be appointed military liaison to SI," Tony says. 

"That would be nice, having him close." 

Jarvis' tone is knowing, sly, and Tony flushes. "You should tell him." Jarvis says, gently.

Tony shakes his head. There is no world where telling Rhodey how much Tony loves him is a good idea. Instead he says, his heart pounding in his chest, "I need you to come to California." 

Jarvis arches an eyebrow. Curiosity is writ bright across his face, but he says only, “When do we leave?” 

Tony smiles. 

~*~ 

Jarvis is quiet when they land and Tony drives them away from the ocean. It's strange, he thinks, that Jarvis is one of the few people who trust him without question.

"Did you fiddle with this engine, Anthony?" he asks, once, running a wrinkled hand over the door handle and Tony flashes a grin, bright and boyish. 

"Wanna see what she can do?" 

Jarvis snorts, his face set into disapproval, but his eyes are laughing. 

His gaze goes sharp and considering, questions he doesn't voice, when Tony pulls up to the little house. Rhodey's truck is in the drive, and he's waiting, barefoot and comfortable in jeans and a faded MIT t shirt, his hands tucked into his pockets. 

"Jarvis," he says, warm and Jarvis smiles, genuinely pleased. 

"James, it is good to see you." 

Tony licks his lips and says, "Jarvis--I need you to know that not telling you was...it wasn't our plan. It just sort of happened. Ok?" 

Jarvis tips his head, a delighted smile on his lips. "Anthony, are you two--" 

"No!" Tony yelps, a flush high on his cheeks and Rhodey snorts, shoulders shaking as Tony glares at him. 

"No," Tony says, firmly. "But--we do want to tell you something." 

"Show," Rhodey says, easily, and pulls open the door. 

Harley is shouting along to the TV, bouncing in front of it, too close, too hyper, and it takes him thirty seconds to realize the men are there. 

When he does---he shrieks, " _ Daddy _ !" a heartbeat before he throws himself bodily at Tony. 

Tony grunts, and catches him, scooping up the four year old and cradling him in his arms, humming along as Harley chatters a mile a minute. 

When he chances a look at Jarvis, his old friend is staring, shock and wonder and tears in his familiar eyes. 

“Harley,” he says, softly, cutting through the animated chatter, “I want you to meet someone very important.” 

~*~ 

"Are you mad?" he asks, later. When Harley is exhausted and asleep in Rhodey's arms and there is sticky batter on Jarvis' previously impeccable suit from the cookies he insisted on making with the little boy. When the sandwiches and tea and movies and coloring and stories have all been trotted out and put to bed and it is only Tony and his first, oldest friend, the man who was more father than any other. 

He asks, anxious, nerves bubbling in his belly. 

"Why did you hide him?" Jarvis asks, not looking away from the child where he's snoring on Rhodey's chest. 

He's exquisite, the very best of Anthony in miniature. 

He wonders, briefly, if he should ask about the mother. 

"How old was I the first time I was kidnapped?" Tony asks. "Or the first time Dad trotted me in front of the Board? How old was I when my first patent made SI a million?" 

Jarvis still doesn't look away from Harley, and he can feel Anthony's gaze move from him, to settle on his son, protective, fierce, loving. 

"I don't want that for him, J. I want to give him the world--and I can. But I want to give him a childhood, too." 

"James loves him very much." 

Anthony is silent, for just a moment, and then, "Like Harley is his own." 

Jarvis finally drags his gaze away from the boy, to the man. 

His smile is gentle, and sad, and kind. "I'm not angry, Anthony. I am honored that you trust me with something so precious." 

Tony's eyes well, tears filling them, and he dashes them away, almost angrily, and Jarvis huffs, pats his hand absently. "But you might tell the man you're raising a child with how you feel about him," he says, because he can. 

~*~ 

"We could homeschool him," Rhodey says. 

Tony makes a sad noise and Mama Rhodes snorts, indelicate. In his bed, Harley sleeps on, unaware. 

"I ain't homeschoolin' anyone," Mama says, "And you two got jobs. That boy will be just fine." 

"Of course  _ he _ will," Rhodey scoffs. "What about  _ me _ ?" 

She reaches past both of them and shuts the door, firmly. "You ain't no different than a hundred thousand other parents sending their babies out into the world," she says. "You'll be just fine." 

Rhodey doesn't argue with her--not about the fact that he  _ is _ different, not about the fact that he  _ isn't _ a parent. 

"I could get JARVIS to teach him," Tony muses, dropping into his chair and Rhodey grins, grabs the coffee and pours him a cup before joining Tony at the table. 

"An AI. You want an AI to teach your child." Mama Rhodes says, flatly, and Tony has the good grace to flush. She mutters something about idiots and retreats to her bedroom. 

They work their way through the pile of school supplies, carefully writing Harley's name on each in black Sharpie and tucking it into his big blue backpack, and Tony says, "I wish I could be there." 

Rhodey squeezes his hand, and says, gentle, "At least you get to cry in private, genius." 

Tony barks a laugh and shakes his head, his grin almost blinding as they get their boy ready for kindergarten. 

~*~ 

There is a blonde. 

She’s sweet and flirty, just enough sass that she gets his attention. A liaison with the Pentagon, she’s in and out of Edwards every few weeks. 

Tony’s in his office, feet on the desk, chattering about a weapon SI is developing, and later, Rhodey will be thrilled it is only that, when she shows up without warning. 

Tony watches, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully and slaps Rhodey on the back a little too heartily when he excuses himself and Lisa asks him to lunch. 

He expects Tony to be waiting when he gets home, but there is only his mother and Harley and a cold plate of pork chops and eggs. There's silence on his phone, too, something he allows to continue for a week before he calls Tony.

"Are you coming here, or am I bringing the kid to you?" 

Tony is silent, and then, "I'll be there tonight." 

It's dirty pool, using Harley, but so is what Tony is doing, hiding from them. 

He doesn't realize, really, that he's angry, not until Tony is pulling up and Harley throws himself, shrieking, at his father, jabbering so fast he's tripping over his words, scrambling to show Tony everything he's doing in school and the toaster he tore apart three days ago, gleeful in his recounting of Mama's fit of temper. 

Tony's face is heartbreakingly open and gentle as he listens to his son, but the moment Harley scuttles away, the masks slide down, and he's cool, withdrawn, reserved in a way Rhodey hasn't seen in years. 

He waits, patient, until Harley vanishes for his bath and Tony gets that shifty, ready to bolt look. 

"You're a dumbass," Rhodey says, and Tony freezes. Blinks at him. 

"And hiding from me is cruel when it affects Harls," he adds because it's twisting the knife, sure, but it's  _ true _ . 

"Thought you'd be busy with Miss Capitol Hill." 

"Her name is Lisa, and fuck you, Tony." 

He's so angry his hands tremble. So angry he has to walk away and he  _ knows _ it's a shitty idea, knows Tony, knows he'll bolt, but he wants to scream and drag him into a kiss and punch him all at once. 

He pauses, halfway to the backdoor. "I'm not fucking her. I'm not dating her. Or anyone else. I wouldn't do that, wouldn't risk Harley like that." 

Tony is quiet, so quiet he thinks maybe he's left, run back to his workshop to hide. 

Then, his voice low and more serious than he's ever heard it, Tony whispers, "You could. I--you're allowed to have a life, Rhodey." 

"I do," Rhodey says, and it's true and it's everything he wants to say and nothing he wants to say. "I have a life, Tones. I have the one I want. I'm not giving up anything I'm missing." 

Tony stares at him, big eyed and pale, and Rhodey walks away. 

~*~ 

When Harley is seven he crawls into Rhodey’s bed after Mama turns out the lights. He sits cross-legged there, pale faced and big-eyed in the dark, until Rhodey sets aside the tablet he’s reading and gives the boy his full attention. 

“Why am I different?” he asks. 

He knew that one day, Harley would ask. That as much as Tony wanted to keep him safe, tucked away, untouched by the world that SI inhabited, that  _ Tony  _ inhabited--Harley would ask. 

There’s a part of him that hates Tony for not being here for this. And a part of him that mourns it, the question and all it means. 

“I think that’s a question that your dad needs to be here to answer,” Rhodey says. 

His brow furrows and his lips pokes out in a pout. “But--” 

“Harls, baby. I can’t answer this,” Rhodey says, gently. He reaches out, pulls the boy into his lap. “You’re my kid, but your dad--he makes these decisions.” 

“But he isn’t  _ here. _ ” Harley says, and his voice is sharp and hurt and Rhodey nods. 

They’ve never hidden that from him, never sugar coated it. 

“He will be, by morning. You know he comes, as soon as we call.” 

Harley curls in his lap, too big and smelling of sweat and growing  _ boy _ and it makes something deep and nameless in his chest  _ ache _ , a longing for his baby boy, the child that has grown into this lanky half-formed person. 

He reaches for his phone and dials, punching in the code that will override any lockdown protocol Tony has, the one that is strictly for  _ Harley.  _

Tony’s face pops up on the screen, small and beautiful and tired. “Hey,” he says, almost sighs, a smile on his lips. “It’s my two best guys. What’s up?” 

“Daddy,” Harley says, and bursts into tears. 

~*~ 

Tony is in a panic when he pulls up four hours later. Rhodey gently untangles Harley from where he’s wrapped around him, and goes to meet his best friend. 

“He wants answers,” Rhodey says, catching Tony and tugging him into his arms. Tony clings to him, a fine tremble in his limbs. “We knew this would happen, eventually.” 

“I’m not ready, platypus.” 

“You’re never gonna be ready, genius. We still have to do this.” 

Tony nods, reluctant and Rhodey pets his hair, the way he never lets himself touch Tony. “It’s gonna be ok.” 

“Promise?” 

“Yeah,” he says, tipping Tony back to look into his best friend’s eyes. “I promise.” 

~*~ 

“Are you ashamed of me?” Harley asks, when Tony has told him, everything. About Maya and the childhood he never wanted and the plan he cooked up to keep Harley hidden. “Is that why you hide me?” 

Rhodey pauses in the middle of putting down their picnic lunch, meeting Tony’s horrified gaze before they both look back to the Harley. 

“Baby,  _ no,”  _ Tony breathes, “Of course not.” 

“But--” 

“Harley, listen to me,” Tony says, “I didn’t hide you here because I’m ashamed of you. You’re the best thing I’ve ever done with my life. You’re here because I wanted to keep you safe. I don’t want you to grow up under the microscope that being a Stark always brings. I want you--I want you to be a  _ kid. _ That’s what this is--it’s why I live so far away and miss so much, why Rhodey lives this way and Mama Rhodes takes care of you. We do all of this to give you a childhood before you become the Stark heir apparent. Do you understand, kiddo?” 

Harley is quiet, chewing on his lip, and Rhodey shifts. “Sweetheart, not telling the whole world about you--that is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But as long as you are safe and happy--we’ll do anything to keep you safe.” 

Harley doesn’t answer, but he presses closer to Tony and reaches for Rhodey’s hand as Mama Rhodes brings out chicken. 

~*~ 

"Why do you both gotta go?" Harley asks, his lip stuck out in a pout that hasn't lost any effectiveness in eight years. 

"Work, baby," Tony says. "But it's just two days. Then we'll be home and you know I always bring the best presents from my trips." 

Rhodey waits, patient, and smiling and Harley turns from Tony to wrap his arms around Rhodey's waist. He's getting big, his head burrowing into Rhodey's chest and an ache blooms. 

"Be good for Mama, kiddo. We'll be back real soon." 

"Take care of him?" Harley asks and Rhodey chucks him under the chin, drops a kiss on his forehead, and says, "I always do. 

~*~ 

Tony calls Harley from the Humvee, bright eyed and grinning. "Where's Pa--Rhodey?" Harley asks and Tony thinks--they'll need to talk about that. It's not the first time Harley's slipped up, almost called Rhodey Papa. 

"He's in the other Humvee. I'll have him call you when we get to base, ok?" 

Harley nods and Tony says, "See you soon," a split second before the world explodes. 

~*~ 

He calls from the base, hours and hours later. His whole body aches, and there is blood in his mouth and the taste of terror copper bright on his tongue, and Harley's voice is furious and scared, when he says, "Papa?" 

Rhodey closes his eyes. 

He wants his son, here in his arms, close enough he can reassure himself that Harley is safe and whole. He wants  _ Tony _ . 

"Hey, baby," he says. "It's gonna take me a little longer than I thought, gettin' home." 

~*~ 

"Do you have a family, Mr Stark?" Yinsin asks, and for the first time in eight years, he wants to tell the truth. 

He wants to tell him about Harley, the brightest best thing he's ever done. He wants to tell him about Rhodey, the steady rock that Tony has built his life on. He wants to tell him about Mama Rhodes and Pepper and the little family he has built, and loves more than life itself. 

The little camera blinks at him from its perch in the rocks and Tony shakes his head and builds a miracle that will take him home. "No, I don't." 

The pity in Yinsin's eyes hurts more than the shrapnel in his chest. 

~*~ 

"Do you know what you're doing, Rhodes? If you get on that plane--if you keep this useless search, it'll cost you your career." 

He grits his teeth. He can hear Harley's sobs, still, can feel the way his thin shoulders shook under his hand. 

"He's been missing for two months, Rhodey. Give it up. He's gone." 

"I can't, sir," Rhodey says. And it's dangerous, letting his CO see how much Tony means to him, how much he's willing to risk for him. 

He does it anyway. 

"Go. I'll do what I can with your orders." 

Rhodey nods, and tosses off a salute he doesn't feel and boards the plane, his promise to Harley echoing in his ears. 

_ I'll bring him home. _

~*~ 

"Sir--there's someone walking there," the pilot says and Rhodey almost falls out of the chopper, trying to see. 

"Put her down," he orders, and he's out and running even before it's safe. Because he knows. Those shoulders, the tired slump of them, the body thin and bloody and he catches Tony as he falls, holds him close and Tony doesn't sob, just clings, and shakes and shakes. 

~*~ 

They don't talk after the press conference. Rhodey slips away while Obadiah steers Tony away, trailed by a beautiful, panicked Pepper. 

Rhodey is forgotten and he swallows that, swallows the pain of it, and goes to the little house where Harley is waiting, and holds his boy close while they wait for Tony. 

"What does it mean?" Harley asks. His voice is older, tired, something Rhodey still isn't used to, but maybe having your father held by terrorists for three months shaves away some of your innocence. "The weapons thing--what does that mean?" 

Rhodey shakes his head. "I don't know, sweetheart." 

~*~ 

It takes hours, before Tony slips into the little house, and scoops Harley into his lap, and the boy shifts, grumpy in his sleep, curling close, hand closing over the arc reactor. 

"You mean it, don't you?" Rhodey asks, softly. Watching him. "About the weapons?" 

Tony is quiet for a long time, and then, "Do you remember the first thing I built at MIT?" 

"DUM-E," Rhodey says promptly, voice fond. 

"I was good at it, wasn't I? Building robots and innovating?" His voice is shaky and small, the way he only ever is with Rhodey and he pulls the smaller man against him, relishing the weight of Tony and Harley in his arms. 

"Yeah, genius. You were real good at it." 

"I don't want to hurt people, anymore. I don't want to give him a legacy that's soaked in blood," Tony says, small and plaintive, and Rhodey presses his lips against Tony's hair. 

"Yeah, ok, Tones. Ok. No more weapons." 

~*~

Harley cries, when Tony reveals Ironman. He's bruised and the taste of blood is still bright in his mouth and Rhodey won't speak to him, won't even  _ look  _ at him, and his son is sobbing. 

"You scare them," Mama Rhodes says. She looks old, older he's ever seen and sad. "They wouldn't survive losing you." 

"I'm right here," he says, desperate and she smiles slowly. 

"You are. But they share you with the whole world and now you've painted a target on your back." 

It takes Harley hours before he creeps into Tony's room, squirms into his father's arms. 

"I'm so sorry, Harls," he murmurs and Harley burrows closer. 

"Promise you'll always come home," he demands, voice rusty and Tony closes his eyes against the sharp sting. 

"Promise, kiddo."

~*~ 

Harley watches them, sometimes. When they’re turned toward each other, intent and absorbed. 

He’s always been aware that his family is odd, different from other families, with his Mama Rhodes and her no nonsense sweetness and Rhodey, strong and stern and gentle, and Dad, manic and wild and heartbreakingly sad, sometimes. 

They didn’t have a normal family, and he used to mind. 

But then he looks at them, moments like this, when Rhodey stands a step too close to Dad, when they’re both turned to each other, to the exclusion of anyone else. When anger lights up Papa’s face and Dad’s goes pleading. When Dad collapses against him during movie nights, and Papa adjusts without even seeming to realize he is, wrapping an arm around Dad and drawing him closer. 

“Mama,” he says, and she hums, absently, behind her book. “Is Dad gonna ever marry Papa?” 

She pauses, and a smile flickers at the edges of her lips, the soft one she keeps just for him. 

“I hope so, baby boy.” 

~*~ 

“Tones,” Rhodey says, and even half asleep that voice, cracked down the middle jerks him awake like a live wire. “Tones, I need you.”

He takes the armor, pushing himself fast enough he’ll have bruises in the morning, and stumbles out even before he’s landed, the suit going into sentry mode. 

Rhodey is sitting on the porch, and Harley is crouched next to him, pale faced and wrapped around Rhodey as much as he can. 

“It’s Mama,” he says, when neither Tony or Rhodey speak. 

~*~ 

The doctors tell them that she didn’t suffer. A massive, devastating heart attack--it happened so fast there was no time for pain. Rhodey listens and nods at all the right moments, and thinks it’s useless, these empty reassurances. 

Harley is red-eyed and quiet, a ghost in their little house, and Tony--Tony is  _ there _ . In the kitchen and on the phone, making arrangements and calling everyone who needs to be called and nudging Rhodey into action and curling around Harley when the boy dissolves into tears. 

He’s  _ solid _ , steady the way he so rarely is, and Rhodey leans into that, into  _ him _ and trusts Tony to catch him. 

~*~ 

The night of the funeral, a tiny affair with the three of them and Rhodey’s sister, a handful of teachers and parents from the PTA Mama Rhodes had terrorized--after it’s over and they’ve all gone and the house is empty and still and Harley falls asleep, tear stained and exhausted--Rhodey lies in a narrow bed with Tony and touches his cheek, gentle, gentle, gentle. “Thank you, genius,” he murmurs and Tony swallows the tears and pain and kisses his palm, quick and fleeting and draws him close, humming until Rhodey finally sleeps. 

~*~ 

Tony steps away from SI and Ironman, almost moves into the little house on the edge of the woods. Rhodey has leave for bereavement and that’s without all the strings that Tony yanks, ruthless in using his title and position and billions to give Rhodey exactly what he needs. 

It’s not enough. 

“We need help,” Rhodey says, one night six months after his mother’s death. He’s thinner than he has been since bootcamp, the house is filthy, Harley hasn’t had a bath in three days and there’s a distinct lack of food that isn’t in a yogurt tube or a coffee pot. 

Tony blinks at him, bleary in a way that reminds Rhodey of MIT and the worst of Tony’s manic binges. 

“I’ll call Pepper,” he says, and Rhodey can’t tell if the defeat or relief in his voice is stronger. 

~*~ 

Harley dislikes her on sight. Tony stands next to the door, Pepper impeccable and beautiful next to him, and stares in shock as his nine year old throws a cup of juice at the door and storms out, all without ever bothering to speak to either of them. 

Rhodey skids out of the back of the house in socks and a damp bare chest, and takes one look at the orange juice dripping down the kitchen wall. 

“You have a son,” Pepper says, dazed. 

“He didn’t take it well,” Rhodey says, resigned. 

“What the actual fuck,” Tony says, petulant. 

~*~ 

He warms to her. Not immediately. 

That first day, he never even speaks to her, or his father. He doesn’t speak for almost a month. 

“His grandmother died,” Pepper says, reasonably, when Tony is not, when Rhodey is ready to shake his precious child just to see him act right. “He’s grieving and you brought me in to help--it feels like a replacement.” 

Rhodey scowls. “You aren’t a  _ replacement.”  _

Pepper smiles, gently, and takes the beer he almost shoves at her. “I know that. You might even know that. But does Harley?” 

~*~ 

Rhodey sits on the floor next to Harley’s bed, and Tony’s fingers tickle his hair. He needs a cut, soon. 

“I don’t want a new Mama,” the boy says, petulant and angry. “We don’t need her.” 

“Do you know--when I first brought Mama here--Dad said we didn’t need her.” 

Harley looks at Tony, shock and disdain bright in his eyes. Tony shrugs. “Thought we could do it ourselves. Thought it’d be easy, to protect and hide you, and easiest if no one but me and Platypus knew.” 

“Mmmhm. And then we brought Mama out here and we realized we could never do this without her.” 

Harley is quiet a long time, and then, “She ain’t Mama.” 

“No,” Tony stretches the word. “She’ll wear heels to school drop off and burn your mac and forget bath time because she’s on the phone with Tokyo. She’ll be confused when you talk about mechanics and bemused when you talk about sports, and she will never ever forget a permission slip or paper to return to school or make you homemade cookies, and she’ll drink more wine than is probably a good idea for you to see.” 

Rhodey gives him an exasperated look and Tony tips Harley’s chin up, so they’re watching each other, bright blue and dark brown. “But she loves you. And she’s loyal. And we need her.” 

~*~ 

On Harley’s tenth birthday, Rhodey takes him to Disneyland. Tony, who was politely asked to leave Disney when he got high on the teacups in the nineties, sits the trip out. 

He uses the long empty day to finish Harley’s present, and is waiting, almost bouncing in place, when they finally return, long after dark. Harley is a pale shadow in the backseat, slumped over and snoring, and for a moment, he looks like the tiny infant Tony placed in Rhodey’s arms, a decade ago. 

“Sorry, Tones, I tried to keep him up,” Rhodey murmurs and he shakes his head and lifts Harley out of the car, all clinging soft limbs that are going long and gangly. 

He won’t be able to do this, much longe. Carry his half grown son like a small child. It aches, a small blossom of pain buried deep down in his gut. 

“It’s fine,” he says, and it is. “Did you have fun?” 

Rhodey’s eyes are bright and soft and Tony knows he’s looking at Harley, that gaze shining with affection. 

But for a heartbeat, he lets himself pretend. 

~*~ 

He gives Harley the workshop in the morning, and that look--soft and bright and full--is in Rhodey’s eyes, when he looks up, hours later, to find Pepper has vanished and it’s just the three of them, a tiny family, wrapped up in his son’s glee. 

~*~ 

Coulsen calls and the world  _ shifts _ , becomes bigger and smaller all at once. He doesn't have time to call, but Pepper watches him reading with big eyes and she steps away and he doesn't fight it, because she can go where he can't, right now. 

Her eyes tell him everything neither can say and he takes a moment to breath through the fear, the mind-numbing worry, and then he tucks it and Harley away. 

He doesn't think about his son when he lands in German or Rhodey when he fights with Rogers on the helicarrier or their little home on the edge of the forest when he's desperately keeping the helicarrier from falling from the sky.

They're all he can think of and everything he doesn't allow himself to think about, when he's fighting his way through New York, and falling from the Tower he built just to give Harley a home in New York. 

"Stark. There's a nuke headed for New York." 

There's a somberness to Fury's voice, a seriousness that strips away his bitchy attitude and leaves only fear and Tony knows. 

He runs the odds and the numbers and the scenarios, mind racing the way it always does, and he knows, even before he's done with that. 

He catches a nuke and drives it up, away from the city,  _ his _ city, and he can hear Rogers shouting and Natasha and--

"Sir, shall I call the young master?" JARVIS asks, and he wants that, so damn bad, but he doesn't want that to be Harley's last memory of him. 

He flies into space with a nuke on his back and he prays that when Harley remembers him, he remembers only the good times. 

He prays they don't hate him. 

~*~ 

It takes hours, until almost dawn, to finish debrief and clear the Tower of the remaining Avengers, to get Loki sorted, to have a moment, just himself.

He goes to Rhodey's, because he can't bear to stay in the Tower, and Harley comes barreling out of the house and slams into him before he even opens the door. 

"You  _ asshole _ ," he chokes out, and Tony feels like he can breath again, for the first time, like the world is moving instead of a frozen black standstill. 

"You almost died," Harley says, sobs, and Tony holds his son and lets him cry. 

~*~ 

Rhodey is quieter about it. 

He slips into the house, dusty and still in his flight suit, two days after the attack, slips into the bed where Harley is curled, ignoring Tony, listening to Pepper talk on the phone, completely, and wraps himself around Tony. His hands are tight, and his breath is shaky, and Tony covers his fingers with his own, twists them together and squeezes once, in quiet apology. 

Harley is watching them, bright eyed and knowing and Tony wonders what he sees, when they’re like this. 

He wonders if Harley knows just how much he loves Rhodey, and how. 

“Don’t die on me, genius,” Rhodey whispers, his lips brushing Tony’s temple and Tony closes his eyes and listens to Pepper and basks in the closeness of his family. 

~*~ 

The Mandarian shakes them. 

Sitting in Happy’s hospital room, the world closing in around him, he is never more grateful for the decision to hide Harley, to protect him with cloaked anonymity. 

He’s never been more scared, not even when he flew a nuke into space, not even in the long months since, when grief and fear choked him and made him keep Harley and Rhodey at arm’s length. 

The terrorist reaches into the heart of him, where he  _ lives _ and  _ takes.  _

And there’s a wild sort of relief and crushing guilt, that it happened to anyone but Harley and Rhodey. 

~*~

There’s a moment, as the bombs slam into his mansion, and the armor wraps around Pepper, that he thinks--it’s better this way. 

Harley is safe and loved, and every day that he wears the armor, he jeopardizes that. SI is in good hands and if he dies--the world won’t end. Not for his company, and not for his son. 

The house is crumbling and he can hear JARVIS in his ear as the suit comes back for him, too late, too late, and he thinks,  _ I’m so sorry, Harley. _

He can hear Pepper screaming and the world falls away and he hits the water. 

~*~ 

The phone rings and rings and rings, and Tony sighs when it goes to voicemail. 

“I’m ok, kid. I know what they’re saying--but they’re wrong. I’m ok. Pep will take care of you, until I come home.” He pauses, and then, “I’m gonna be a minute, though, Harls. I gotta take care of this. I gotta make sure when I come back, I’m not dragging my demons with me. I won’t bring them back to hurt you. I know you’ll be pissed--and you’re allowed to be, ok, kid? You be as angry as you need to be. I’ll be home as soon as I can.” He takes a deep breath and it confuses him how easy it is to say, “I love you, Harls.” 

He doesn’t remember when saying that became as easy as breathing. 

~*~ 

“You know he’s gonna kick your ass,” Rhodey says. They’re pressed against the bulkhead and Tony glares at him. 

“Is now really the time, platypus?” 

“Gotta do it before we die,” Rhodey says, peering around. Extremis enhanced soldiers are streaming toward them and the POTUS is dangling in the War Machine armor like an especially over sized pinata and Tony glares. “You got any plans, genius?” 

He does. Of course he does. 

“JARVIS, how we looking, buddy?” 

“Incoming now, Sir.” 

Tony straightens and grins as they come out of the darkness, his suits brilliant and beautiful and deadly as they surround the ship. 

“Tony,” Rhodey breathes, and oh--They’re gonna talk about this, he just knows it. 

Later. 

“Take ‘em to church,” he says and they  _ do. _

~*~ 

Rhodey doesn’t mention it, until after. After Pepper is stabilized, the Extremis safely out of her system. After his surgery has been scheduled, and Harley has wrapped around him and cussed him out and sobbed, little boy terror, against his shoulder. 

After, when Tony is leaning against him on the porch swing and the cool December air bites enough he can justify wrapping an arm and blanket around his genius--then he says, softly. 

“Tony? Why was there child-sized armor in that fight?” 

~*~ 

The suit is called Rescue. 

Tony watches Rhodey as he examines the specs, a hand at his mouth, eyes narrow and unreadable. Finally he lowers it, and his gaze finds Tony. 

"Why?" he asks, softly. 

"Because we aren't safe. I'm not--and you aren't. We put on the suits, we paint a target on our backs. And Harley--his safety depends on a secret, and one day we won't be able to keep it. One day, they're going to find him. And I need to know he's safe, when they do." 

"So you built him a suit. He can't carry it." 

"He doesn't have to. It's paired to a tracker." 

Rhodey's eyes flash, furious. "You put a  _ tracker _ in my son?" he says, voice dangerous and Tony almost flinches. 

He does give Rhodey a hurt look. "I wouldn't. I'd never--not until we talked about it." 

Rhodey inhales and forces the fury down. "You could--I don't--he's not--" 

"Don't you dare finish that statement," Tony says and this time  _ his _ voice is dangerous. It makes Rhodey still. 

There's something skating under the surface of this conversation and neither of them are ready for it, and both of them are desperate for it. 

He shifts his gaze, back to Rescue, sleek and powerful and gorgeous. "You gonna tell him about it?" 

Tony startles, and his mouth opens, and Rhodey grins at him. "He's gonna lose his  _ mind _ ." 

~*~ 

For his fifteenth birthday, Tony gives him a beat to hell junker and Rescue. Harley loves it--of course he does. Tony is only a little miffed the kid seems to like the old hotrod more than the state of the art suit of fucking armor. 

“Of course I like the suit, Dad,” he says, rolling his eyes, all sass and sarcasm. “But I can’t drive it to school next year.” 

“Kid’s got a point.” 

“You can’t take the car to Mach two over the Pacific,” Tony points out and Harley grins. 

~*~ 

They all go, the first time Harley takes Rescue for a spin. He spirals into the air, shrieking across the comms and Ironman and War Machine are flanking him the entire time, chasing him up into the blue. 

They’re a smear of metallic red and blue and grey, all twisted together and laughing, and Tony thinks, plummeting to the earth and trusting Rhodey to catch him, that he’s never been happier.

~*~ 

“We have a problem,” Pepper says, two weeks later. 

He’s heard Pepper over the years, when she’s mad and exasperated and scared and tired and amused. 

But he’s never heard that note in her voice. 

~*~ 

Their saving grace is that the pictures are undeniably blurry. 

The problem is that the pictures exist at all. 

Ironman’s red and gold, War Machine’s burnished silver touched with blue--and a smaller, slighter blue and gold suit. 

“Who has them?” he asks. 

There’s a beat of silence and he looks at Pepper, where she’s sitting pale and beautiful behind her desk, and he thinks, in that moment, that in another life--he could have loved her. 

In another life, he wouldn’t hate her for being the one telling him this, for being anyone but Rhodey. 

“Ms. Potts?” he prompts, and she swallows. 

“They’re everywhere, Tony.” 

~*~ 

He has missed calls from Steve and Clint and Fury, and he doesn’t give a damn, storms onto Edwards Air Force base with the impunity and surety of being denied nothing in his long life. 

“Colonel Rhodes is in a meeting, sir,” his assistant says and Tony bares his teeth in something that isn’t a smile. 

“Get him.” 

The girl blinks and reaches for her phone. 

It takes almost twenty minutes before Rhodey appears and he’s scowling, furious at being dragged from his meeting--and then he sees Tony. 

Sees the way that he’s sitting, tense and stiff, the way his fingers tap impatient on the desk and the way he’s chewing on his lip and the  _ fear  _ in his eyes, and his stomach drops.

“What happened?” 

“Someone saw us,” he says, and throws the picture up on a holodisplay for him to see. 

It’s grainy, a blurry shot of metal against blue--and he knows immediately how bad it is.

He always knew, in a way that Tony refused to acknowledge--that keeping Harley a secret was a ticking time bomb, the expiration date set even before he was born. 

He still isn’t ready, though. 

Not to share Harley with the world. 

Not to lose his place in his little family. 

Will they still want him, when they don’t  _ need _ him? 

“What do you want to do?” he asks, instead of the questions that clamor for answers. 

“Run away?” Tony asks hopefully. “I don’t suppose we can do that?” 

_ We.  _ Something tight and aching in his gut unfurls and he closes his eyes. Tony nudges him, gentle, and says, “Platypus?” 

“Nothing, Tones,” he says, and smiles. “Maybe can’t run away--but we should probably go check on our boy.” 

~*~ 

The thing about Harley is--he isn't the little boy they brought home fifteen years ago. He's brilliant, and sassy, and he's spent far too much time with Pepper. And he's waiting for them, sprawled across the couch, a twizzler hanging from his mouth as he watches the news. His gaze flicks to them, Tony and Rhodey standing shoulder to shoulder in the doorway, and he smiles lazily. "Cat's outta the bag, huh?" 

"You aren't supposed to be watching that," Tony grumbles. 

"They're talking about me," Harley protests, like that's a good reason to listen to gossip sites babble. 

Tony sighs and JARVIS turns off the TV. 

"So what are we gonna do?" Harley asks, chewing obnoxiously. 

"We can still deny it. Say it was Pepper in the suit, or a self-piloted suit. I've been working on the Iron Legion." 

"Or we could tell them the truth," Harley says, and Rhodey sways, just a little, just enough to steady Tony when he stumbles. 

He knew it was coming but still--it aches, hearing his son say that. 

So calm and matter of fact. "We have to do it sometime," Harley says, reasonable. "And if we go ahead and tell them--you can move to New York without worrying about how you're gonna keep me a secret."

"Are you sure this is that what you want?" Tony asks and Rhodey is silent, not sure he belongs in this conversation. Harley's gaze skips to him, briefly and then he nods. 

"Yeah. I'm sure."

~*~

Tony crawls into Rhodey's bed the night before the press conference. They're in the Malibu mansion, the smaller rebuilt thing that Pepper spends most of her time in, and Rhodey isn't terribly surprised. Tony's always been tactile when he's upset. 

"Are we doing the right thing?" he asks. 

"He's a smart kid. Got a good head on his shoulders--and you've spent enough time tellin' him what to expect that he won't be surprised."

"It's different--hearing about it and living it, it's  _ different _ ." 

Tony traces anxious little circles on his chest and peers up at him in the dark. "What if it hurts him?" 

Rhodey exhales and squeezes Tony close, until that worried scared look fades and he presses closer. "You've spent fifteen years making sure nothing could hurt him--but you can't keep him safe forever, genius. Not even you can do that." 

"I want to," he admits. "I want to keep you both safe, always." 

His heart twists, a bittersweet tug. 

"You'll come with us, though, right?" 

Rhodey nods and stares at the ceiling. "Of course, Tones. Anything for you." 

~*~ 

It is both better than he anticipated and exquisitely awful.

He stands to the side, with Pepper and her new bodyguard, and watch Tony charm the press, and watch him go serious and skim enough of his horrible childhood that it makes a kind of sense, when he says, "I never wanted my child raised in your spotlights. It's not where a child belongs." 

"Was that person with you and War Machine your child? Is he the Stark heir?" Everheart shouts, and Tony straightens. 

"His name is Harley Stark," Tony says, evenly. "And the only one who gets to decide what he is is  _ him _ ." 

Harley slips into the room, looking older than his fifteen years in a three piece suit, a dark blue with a startlingly bright tie, and a smile Rhodey's never seen before. 

It makes him uneasy, makes him want to reach for Harley and pull him away, into the shadow. 

He doesn't. But as Harley stands next to his father and smiles he realizes--it's Harls' press smile. 

~*~ 

The press is obsessed with Harley. 

With his mother and where he was raised and how he was kept a secret for so long. A few of his classmates give interviews, and the free press descends on the tiny town in the middle of nowhere and Tony  _ hates _ it. 

He hates the pinched look on his son's face and the quiet distance in Rhodey and the fact that he still hasn't talked to the Avengers, despite the mounting number of missed calls. 

"They're gonna find this place, aren't they?" Tony asks, and Rhodey looks at him. He's sweaty and beautiful, pushing the lawn mower to the garage. It's the only tool Rhodey owns that Harley hasn't cannibalized for parts. 

"Probably," he says. "But we knew that when you did the press conference." 

"What do we do?" he asks, and Rhodey squints at him. 

Shakes his head. "This is your decision, Tony." 

And that--that doesn't sit right, the way that Rhodey refuses to talk to him, the way he is so damn  _ far _ away. 

He, absurdly, wants to go back. To before that flight, to before all of this mess. 

He wants to go back to when his family was small and secret and happy. 

~*~ 

"I'm going to move to New York," he says, and Pepper nods. 

He hasn't told Harley, hasn't told _Rhodey_ , but the press are circling closer, and he needs to take Harls somewhere safe. 

The tower calls, a bright beacon and he knows this is right. 

"When?" 

"As soon as we can." 

~*~ 

“You don’t need to help,” Rhodey says, when Tony starts packing the kitchen. 

Tony pauses, and for the first time in fifteen years, he feels...wrong footed. 

Like he isn’t where he belongs. 

And it infuriates him, suddenly. 

“Are you gonna tell me what I did to piss you off or are we just gonna keep acting like everything is fine?” Tony asks. 

Rhodey sighs and his shoulders slump forward, just a little. “I’m not pissed.” 

“Then why are you acting like..” he flails a little, letting it trail into nothing. 

“You don’t need me, Tony. You and Harley--you’re movin’ to New York and you don’t need me. And I’m tryin’ to figure out what I’m supposed to do now.” 

Tony blinks at him. 

Blinks again. 

Then he’s pressing into Rhodey’s space and craning up that small little difference and kissing him. 

It takes Rhodey a split second to catch on, to catch him around the waist and drag him closer, biting at Tony’s lips and licking into his wet hot mouth, licking up the wounded little noises he makes. 

It’s hot and desperate and dirty and the best damn kiss he’s ever had and when Tony pulls away, it’s only to catch Rhodey’s face in his hands and say, firm, “I  _ always _ need you. And you’re moving with us. Just as soon as I can convince the Air Force to let you go--and don’t think that will take me long.” 

Rhodey inhales, a shuddering noise, and whispers, “Tones--” 

“He’s  _ ours,  _ Rhodey.  _ Our _ son. And I’m yours. You are  _ mine.  _ Do you hear me? The whole goddamn world doesn’t change that we’re a family.” 

“You can’t just say things like that,” Rhodey whispers, and kisses him again, gentle this time. “You--” 

“I can, if you want it too.” Tony goes shy, just a little, biting at his lip. “You do, don’t you?” 

Rhodey doesn’t answer--he just kisses Tony again. 

From the doorway, his voice very dry, Harley says, “It’s about fucking time.” 

~*~ 

It takes six months and three weeks, and Tony bitches about every single one--but Rhodey walks into the penthouse of the Tower, and he’s smiling, a bag hooked over one shoulder, and his son is snoring on the couch and JARVIS is greeting him, telling him Sir is coming up. He can see the bots, a vidfeed from the workshop set into the kitchen wall, and Tony is spilling out of the elevator and into his arms, and he inhales the scent of him, coffee and grease and a little bit of sweat, and he knows, he’s home. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Come yell with (at?) me on [Tumblr](http://www.areiton.tumblr.com/)!


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